There is a language of eye and motion which cannot be put
into words, and which teaches what words never can. I feel acquainted
with the soul of this race; I read its nobler thought in their defaced
figures. There _was_ a greatness, unique and precious, which he who does
not feel will never duly appreciate the majesty of nature in this
American continent.
I have mentioned that the Indian orator, who addressed the agents on
this occasion, said, the difference between the white man and the red
man is this: "the white man no sooner came here, than he thought of
preparing the way for his posterity; the red man never thought of this."
I was assured this was exactly his phrase; and it defines the true
difference. We get the better because we do
"Look before and after."
But, from the same cause, we
"Pine for what is not."
The red man, when happy, was thoroughly happy; when good, was simply
good. He needed the medal, to let him know that he _was_ good.
These evenings we were happy, looking over the old-fashioned garden,
over the beach, over the waters and pretty island opposite, beneath the
growing moon; we did not stay to see it full at Mackinaw. At two
o'clock, one night, or rather morning, the Great Western came snorting
in, and we must go; and Mackinaw, and all the north-west summer, is now
to me no more than picture and dream;--
"A dream within a dream."
These last days at Mackinaw have been pleasanter than the "lonesome"
nine, for I have recovered the companion with whom I set out from the
East, one who sees all, prizes all, enjoys much, interrupts never.
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